


How Merlin and Arthur Almost Drowned in the Rain (Figuratively)

by lost_for_me



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A lot of the "in love" scenes are just me being in love with the whole cast, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Dies (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Can I tag that?, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Caring Merlin (Merlin), Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, I'm exhausted and writing this without enough sleep, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Merlin lives alone - until he doesn't, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Rain, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, They talk and hug and work through their trauma, This...was supposed to be 2000 words of fluff, Why Do I Write So Much Angst, and I guess this is me working through the traumatic experience that was the finale, and it turned into this hell spaghetti of angst, and like... I read almost exclusively fluff, and.. you know.. they always act so domestic, but I'm happy because it was really fun, but like.... so much shit happens that it isn't even a big plot point, who hurt me, you know what? i can because i say so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29856474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_for_me/pseuds/lost_for_me
Summary: I. storma disturbance of the atmosphere marked by wind and usually by rain, thunder and lightning[“Lazy,” Arthur commented, as he dropped a warm towel on Merlin’s face. He reached over to ruffle his hair with it, smiling and warm and alive.Together they would take the world up by storm.]II. cloudburstan extreme amount of precipitation in a short period of time[Cloudbursts. Yes. Grief felt like cloudbursts, pouring and trembling and screaming.]III. floodan overflowing of a large amount of water beyond its normal confines[The shower was thunderous around him, pouring and pouring its pain on him, letting his blood run and sink until grief was a flood washing everything away and - ]IV. showera brief and usually light fall of rain[“Merlin, in you, I found a reason to save the whole world.”]V. rainbowan arch of colors formed in the sky[There’s a rainbow shimmering just above the sun.]Or: I was supposed to write something short and sweet and it turned into me thinking about pain and loss and word-vomiting.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22
Collections: The Melee Challenge





	How Merlin and Arthur Almost Drowned in the Rain (Figuratively)

**Author's Note:**

> Merlin Fic Book Club Melee Challenge, prompt "rain".  
> I swear I only read fluff and I have no idea how this happened??? I think I tagged everything but again : Arthur dies. This contains Merlin dealing with Arthur's loss, Arthur dealing with being alive after almost everything he knew is gone, and mentions Merlin experimenting on himself. It's not at all graphic.  
>   
> A bit of background, Gwen did become queen because she's a BAMF and she was a good one. However, she and Arthur didn't get married, and they were just great friends.  
>   
> It has a happy ending because, like I said, my original intention was to write a sweet slice-of-life fic. And... Because I want them to be happy.  
> Tumblr @lost-for-writing

#####  I. storm

_i) a disturbance of the atmosphere marked by wind and usually by rain, snow, hail, sleet, or thunder and lightning ___

__  
_ _

It was raining like the skies had decided to wash everything away, then had a bit of a domestic, if the thunder was anything to go by.

“Sometime today, Merlin!” Arthur shouted out his window. 

“You absolute prat!” Merlin shouted back, not even looking up.

“You,” Arthur shot back, smiling, “Still can’t address me like that.”

“You will find, my lord, that I can and I will,” Merlin said, adding a muttered _clotpole._

“It’s just a bit of rain. Really, Merlin, are you scared?”

“Yes! For my health. And your sanity.”

“I hardly think it is my sanity that needs worrying after.”

“Yes, yours is already gone, isn’t it.”

“I am sure it is still there - you do test it every day for me,” Arthur smiled, adding, “And my patience. Now hurry up.”

The rain, inexplicably, decided to try to force itself inside - strangely, Arthur would describe it as _annoyed_ \- and got in his eyes and mouth. Coughing and rubbing the water off, he startled when Merlin walked in, sopping wet and carrying his armour. 

He looked him over. His hair, dark and curly and plastered to his forehead, did nothing to hide his ears, red from the cold and dripping water. His normally loose clothing stuck to him, showing his angled, rather broad shoulders and the lean line of his legs. He was shivering, but held himself tightly, steadying himself. Arthur wanted to drag him to the fireplace and warm him up. 

“Did you choke on your own tongue again, sire?”

“No. And I’ve never done that.”

He had, when Merlin put on the purple shirt that he’d given him. And when Merlin picked up Theo, one of the chambermaid’s sons and cooed at him. And when he saw Merlin stretch to wake himself while on patrol, leaves and flowers stuck to his hair like a crown. And -

“What was that, then?”

And Merlin could never know about that.

“I choked on your stupidity.”

Merlin looked up Arthur up and down, then raised his eyebrow (yes, _the eyebrow raise of Gaius_ ). Arthur turned even redder. 

“Well,” Merlin said barely holding in his laughter, “I’ll just warm up a bit and then dry everything. Please, continue choking or whatever it is that arses do.”

“I wouldn’t know. I am the Crown Prince of Camelot -”

“And so you’re a _royal_ one,” Merlin smirked, “ _My lord_.”

He made it sound like a challenge, an insult. One Arthur was too happy to oblige.

“Oh, you - “ 

Arthur lunged forward, holding Merlin by the shoulders and rubbing his knuckles roughly against his head. Merlin laughed, half-heartedly trying to squirm out. Arthur smiled until Merlin’s clothing soaked his.

“Merlin, why,” Arthur said, dragging them both to the fire and taking his soaking shirt off, “Are you worse than a drenched rat?”

“I like the rain.” 

Merlin made no move to remove his soaked clothing, choosing instead to lie on his stomach on the plush carpet, warming himself by the fire. The firelight accentuated his cheekbones, and made his lips glisten the colour of fresh berries. His eyelashes stuck to his cheeks, only a sliver of the deep ocean of his eyes visible, blinking molten gold with the warmth of the fire.

“Yes, until you catch a cold, you idiot,” Arthur said, grabbing at Merlin’s clothing in a vague attempt to get him to take it off, after tugging on his sleeping shirt. “You have less survival instinct than that boar - the one that ran toward my spear.”

“Are you worried about me?” Merlin had a strange look on his face. 

Arthur was silent a moment before blustering, “No. No, I just… can’t have you slacking off.”

Merlin raised his eyebrow ( _that goddamn eyebrow_ ).

”Fine. Yes, I’m worried, but only because you are _useless_.”

Merlin’s answering smile lit up his face. Arthur thought he rather heroically managed to stop himself from blurting out what was on his mind. He only said, “Now change,” and his voice didn’t even crack. 

Well. It didn’t crack _too_ much. 

“Unlike you, I am not spoiled and therefore have a reasonable amount of clothing. I have nothing else to wear.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, and quickly rummaged through his closet to find a shirt and breeches soft and warm enough to be kept but too small on him to wear often. Or ever, really, but they fit Merlin. He threw them at the back of Merlin’s head. Merlin whipped his head around, but merely smiled when he saw what Arthur had thrown. 

“While you’re at it, could I have a towel, too?”

“Lazy,” Arthur commented, as he dropped a warm towel on Merlin’s face. He reached over to ruffle his hair with it, smiling and warm and alive. 

_Together they would take the world up by storm._

##### II. cloudburst

_i) an extreme amount of precipitation in a short period of time, sometimes accompanied by hail and thunder, which is capable of creating flood conditions._

It was too bright. 

Arthur’s wound was too bright, too, bloody and black and impossible to ignore. His face was drawn, the sun’s lingering kisses from too many days training on the field faded and dead. Pale red surrounded his eyes, and the eyes that once were clear as summer skies were nothing but dim shadows of ice. His hair, the spun gold that once inspired Alchemy’s quest melted away into alchemists' poor imitations of it, pale and dusty and dull. 

Merlin’s hand hovered over him, scared to touch lest he crumble.

If only it were darker, Merlin could have convinced himself that Arthur was merely sleeping. If only the clouds offered their shadows to the lifeless paleness of him. If only night lent their blankets to cover his wounds. 

Merlin lifted Arthur onto the boat, legs and arms shaking, the cooling metal of his armour sinking into Merlin’s chest, like the pain of it all. He’d tried to find flowers to send Arthur off with, but all of them were so ugly. The blue ones that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name for were garish in comparison to Arthur’s eyes when he smiled, the red ones pale in comparison to Pendragon red, the yellow ones ghastly in comparison to Arthur’s crown.

It was too bright. He wished the light were softer, like a campfire at night - like when Arthur had accepted him, or like when Arthur smiled at him, or like when Arthur had - _or like when Merlin still had Arthur._

He lowered his eyes, and laid his hand on Arthur’s forehead. 

His chest felt too tight for him, the air inside desperately trying to pull life in, only to slip and fall and break. Every gulp of it felt jagged, clawing at his throat, bleeding black and sticky into his lungs. He was shaking now, shivering with the cold knife of grief pressed at his throat. He was the trembling emptiness of outer space, and there was only the planet of his grief within him. It was heavy with guilt and pain, and its gravity was pulling the universe into it, sucking light and sound and breath until all he had left was an aching nothingness. His tears tore out of his eyes the way rain gushes out of cloudbursts.

Cloudbursts. Yes. Grief felt like cloudbursts, pouring and trembling and screaming.

There was something pale and misty about it, fogging his eyes, and there was rain in his eyes, too, pouring and pouring like dead bodies after a battle. It blurred everything in front of him, and he couldn’t move forward because he couldn’t see anything but Arthur. There was a loud silence, a sort of roar that couldn’t be heard pounding in his ears, whispering _he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead_ so loud he couldn’t think anything else. There was a desperate grab for air in it somewhere, and he couldn’t breathe because every time he tried, the rain poured into his nose and his mouth and his lungs. He was drowning on land. There was the promise of lightning threaded in every breath and the threat of hail in every stinging raindrop until one day, it cleared, and still everything was soaked. 

He can’t stop shivering and his hair’s soaked, his face is soaked, his heart is soaked, and he will never be fully dry, but he’s not drowning anymore.

##### III. flood 

_i) an overflowing of a large amount of water beyond its normal confines, especially over what is normally dry land  
ii) an outpouring of tears or emotion_

The skies cried and cried the day Arthur Pendragon came back, the Lake of Avalon flooding over and lapping at Merlin's door. 

Merlin had scrambled out in his sleeping trousers. Only half-awake, he had tried to save his garden. The rain had gotten everywhere, his hair drenched and plastered to his forehead, rivulets running down his bare torso, and he could taste cold tears in his nose and mouth. He was muttering a protective spell when he heard it, a hoarse _is anyone there?_ in a language he hadn’t spoken for centuries, but a voice that he couldn’t forget.

He couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. His magic flooded out of him, searching and reaching for his king. His bare feet slapped against the stone path and his arms scratched against the trees whipping by, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. He ran to the clearing where he had sent Arthur away, his heartbeat pounding _he’s back, he’s back, he’s back_. He tried to shout but the only sound out of his mouth was a choked gurgling sound. He ran into the clearing, and - _oh god he’s here, he’s here, he’s_ \- Merlin fell to his knees. 

_He’s alive._

“Who’s there? Who - Merlin!” 

Merlin let out a laugh, giddy with it, because his voice was exactly as he remembered it. His palms hit the ground, small stones digging into him, and he tried to remember how to breathe without choking. He pressed down harder, until the stones were almost piercing him, trying to convince himself this was real. 

“Merlin?”

Arthur, golden Arthur, _alive_ , kneeled down in front of Merlin. His hair stuck to his forehead and raindrops rolled down his nose and cheeks. His head was tilted, water dripping into his worried mouth. His eyes were lost but concerned, roaming across Merlin's face. There were purple bruises under his eyes and he was too pale and everything was slippery and shadowed. He was the most beautiful thing Merlin had ever seen.

He was still wearing his armour, clean as if Merlin had just polished it. But it had been 1500 years.

At that thought, Merlin grabbed Arthur by his arms, and pulled him up to wrap his arms around him. Arthur let out a pained sound, and Merlin stopped breathing for a moment before Arthur held him back. They collapsed against each other. Arthur’s chainmail was icy and hard and burned against his bare skin, and his gloves were rough against his back, but Merlin pressed himself closer, chest to freezing chest. Merlin could feel Arthur’s hair against his cheek and Arthur’s chin dug into his shoulder and Merlin could feel him breathing and - _he’s alive, he's alive._ Merlin took a shuddering breath.

Arthur sneezed. 

Merlin startled, taking a step back and staring at him. Arthur still held Merlin’s arms, gloves tight against his skin. He shook his head sharply, scattering thick drops of water. He was trembling, his breathing unsteady. His eyes were half-lidded and blank with confusion, and his lips were turning an alarming shade of blue. Blue, like he had that day when he -

Merlin forced a smile on his face, and said, “It seems the only thing you caught this hunt is a cold, my lord. I’d do well to take you home.”

Arthur gave him a small, relieved smile, and replied, “I see you’ve learned something, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin felt his lips curving, before he met Arthur's eyes and had to clear his throat.

“Well, you… You have been away for quite some time, Arthur. I - I missed you.”

“How long was I - wait, no, I - are you - I can’t -," Arthur drew a shaky breath. "It’s good to see you, Merlin.” 

Arthur looked lost. Merlin reached out, taking Arthur’s arm, and Arthur closed his eyes.

"Here. Let's get you to my - let's get you home."

Merlin led Arthur to his house. Arthur followed, pulling his arm out of Merlin’s grasp for a heart-stopping second before wrapping it around Merlin’s waist and holding him up. They trudged through the pouring rain, Merlin’s magic shielding them from most of it, feet slipping against the rocks and mud. Merlin raised his hand slightly so that the doors opened and the heater came on. He felt the mud-removing spell clean his feet as he passed through his foyer, and the drying spell remove the worst of the rain. If Arthur noticed, he didn’t comment on it. 

They stumbled into Merlin’s dining room, an open space with pale caramel walls and a dark mahogany table. A half-open window kept most of the pouring rain from coming in, the few wandering drops pitter-pattering on the black marble countertop. There was a pot with some basil plants growing next to the sink, and colorful mugs of golden yellows to blushing reds to midnight blacks lined the wall. 

Merlin pulled a black stool out, gently sitting Arthur down. He ducked into his bedroom and brought out a soft shirt and trousers, and after a moment’s hesitation, picked up his newest pair of underwear. He walked back out to see Arthur leaning against the countertop, half-asleep.

“Here, let me just -,” his voice broke, unsure what he was asking. He took a short breath in. “Let me.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes opening and closing blearily. He held his arms up. Merlin carefully pulled off his armour, undoing the clasps the same way he had a thousand times before. He tugged at the vambraces clenched around his wrist. He lifted Arthur’s chainmail and set it down on his dining table, discreetly spelling a basin of warm water and a soft cloth onto the table. He removed Arthur’s belt and shirt. He wiped the dust and mud off Arthur’s face, neck, and chest, before running the cloth down his arms. Arthur yawned and stood up when Merlin kneeled down to pull Arthur’s boots off, lifting his legs one at a time to help him. Merlin unlaced his trousers with trembling hands, glancing up at Arthur, who was swaying on his feet. After wiping his legs and feet, Merlin reached over and handed Arthur his underwear, and turned around to offer him privacy. When the sounds of moving stopped, he turned around and helped Arthur into the shirt and trousers. 

He looked mismatched, a man out of time and place. 

Merlin pushed Arthur into his bedroom, faded dark orchid walls and constellations painted on the dark violet ceiling. Arthur dropped into the left side of the bed, smashing his face against the white pillows. Merlin pulled the covers tightly over him and whispered, “Hléownes.” _Warmth_. His eyes shone gold and the bed shimmered, heating up. Arthur slowly cracked one eye open, and smiled at him, tired but open and fond and alive. 

“Thank you, Merlin. For - well, for everything. Get some rest.”

He patted Merlin’s hand, then shut his eyes. Merlin stood there, one hand holding onto Arthur’s and one hand hovering over his shoulder, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. Merlin carefully rearranged Arthur into a more comfortable position, brushing his hair off his face and settling his arms over the covers. He forced himself to match his breathing to Arthur’s, slowly in and slower out, his heart shouting and dancing _he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive_ in the quiet.

He stood there until he could hear something other than his heartbeat. The rain had died down by then. 

He trailed into the bathroom, not bothering to remove his clothes before turning on the shower and standing under the spray. He let the water flow down from his hair to his neck and mix somewhere on his clothes and drip down to his feet. The water was grey and there were specks of blood and grass floating and drowning in it. His tears were quick to join, molten and burning against his skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his face, feeling the water mix and run down his face. His breathing sped up again, clawing its way out of his throat, gasping and desperate as the tears. He held his breath to stay quiet, mindful of Arthur sleeping. 

_He's alive. He’s alive and he’s here and he’s **sleeping.**_

He stayed there until the water warmed up then turned cold again then warmed up once more, hoping the sound of the shower would drown out the sound of his pain and relief and desperation pouring out. When he was done, he crept out. He pulled his clothes off, messily dragged a towel over himself, and slipped into his pajamas. He fell asleep curled in his bed, too tired to care about sleeping next to Arthur.

A couple days later, Arthur broke down in the shower. 

Merlin had shown him how to work it, along with little things here and there around his house - the microwave, the heater, the lights, the toilet. They’d fallen into a routine, falling asleep in the same bed because both of them disliked the sofa but mostly because Merlin was terrified of losing Arthur and Arthur couldn’t close his eyes without Merlin. Merlin would wake up early to watch him breathe before getting breakfast - Arthur discovered he liked the strawberry jam Merlin made, and he liked his tea with two spoonfuls of milk. They had breakfast in the bed, and Arthur would tease Merlin about how he lived like a noble and Merlin would laugh and pretend to be annoyed. After they were done, Merlin would spell the crumbs away, and tell him stories. 

The first time, he’d demanded the truth about all those quests he’d gone on with Merlin. Merlin had been cautious at first, tentatively explaining everything that he had done. That had taken more than a day. Arthur held Merlin’s shoulder and thanked him, and wished more than anything that he could show even half of that dedication, that he could somehow repay it. 

After that, Merlin had explained how the world had changed, generation after generation of kings and queens, revolutions and diseases and wars. He listened to Merlin talk of religious wars, soldiers - fathers and sons and brothers - dying for some mistaken cause, and tried not to flinch thinking about his father and his war against sorcery. 

His stomach clenched when Merlin spoke of going without food at all for 4 years, during what he called the _Great Famine_ , trying to give food to those who would die without it. He held tight to Merlin, who had fiery tears in his eyes as he described seeing the Black Death take hold of the village he was staying in. Merlin spoke too thickly while talking about the friends who had died trying to find a cure, and Arthur felt tears of his own burn down his cheeks as Merlin talked about experimenting on himself again and again, thinking that there must be a use for his immortality. That he was somehow useless if he couldn’t stop it.

He forgot to breathe when Merlin described enlisting for the World Wars ( _my gods, the world ripped apart_ ), seeing the destruction wrought from human hands up close, watching as tens of thousands of women and men were poisoned and blasted apart and filled with holes, powerless to stop it. Merlin experimented with himself, then, too, trying to find something to heal those wounds fast enough, bleeding and bleeding with something more than blood. He hadn’t been able to find anything. Dread filled his chest like lava, and he was powerless to help when Merlin began trembling, describing nuclear warfare, how he had felt it like a sword to the chest when the bombs dropped. Merlin’s voice shook as he said he went to the bomb sites, because he was the only one who could, and saw nothing but tainted, mangled memories. 

That night, Arthur let his arms stray to Merlin and held him, matching their breathing until they both drifted off. 

Then Merlin told him about the good side of things, too. He told him about the artists he had met during the Renaissance, and used his magic to show him stunning paintings and life-like statues. He smiled, talking about Leonardo - “He was a real Renaissance man, that one,” he said, giggling - and blushed crimson when he described walking in on Michelangelo _researching_ for sculpting the more intimate parts of _David_. He told him of the language they spoke now, called _English_ , and how his friend William - “A good name, but a bit of a troublemaker, I think.” - helped shape it. He insisted that Arthur had to read his works, then that led to them reminiscing the stories they (read : Merlin) had snuck out of the library under Geoffrey’s watchful nose. Merlin talked about new genres of literature, and how women helped shape those, and he said there were moving pictures, now. They were called _films and television and videos_ , he said, and he promised Arthur that they could watch them, though maybe later. 

He talked of buying a telescope for himself and enhancing it with magic, and Arthur couldn’t stop laughing when he said he’d tried to look at Venus with it, then had to stay in a darkened room and wear a large hat if he wanted to go outside for 2 weeks after that. He refused to show Arthur what the hat looked like. When he talked about seeing the moon and the planets and the stars, Arthur made him promise to show him, and maybe even rockets, too. 

And somewhere between hearing about advances in medicine and the invention of the phone, Arthur realised he couldn’t breathe. 

He was standing under the shower, rinsing his hair with a pleasant soap that smelled like lavender, lazily rolling his thoughts around. He’d always liked lavender, it was a calming smell, and he vaguely remembered his nursemaid always putting a pouch of it under his pillow. She’d told him, “There, every bad dream will get caught in it, and nothing will harm you, my lord.” She was the first person who hadn’t looked away from him when he opened his eyes - much like his mother’s, he was told. One of the only other people who was like that was Merlin. Merlin put a bit of lavender in his bathwater, too. There was nothing better than clambering into his bath after a long day of training the knights, water perfectly warm and relaxing. Speaking of the knights, he should see to their training routine, there was a new maneuver that he - that he. 

_Oh gods. Oh gods, the knights - his knights and Gwen and Camelot and -_

Arthur’s legs gave out, and his knees hit the rough stone floor with a loud _crack_. He could see something red trickling out, mixing with the water, but he couldn’t think at all. His head was filled with burning white pulses of _they’re gone, they’re gone, they’re gone_ and his heartbeat was a punishing rhythm in his chest, the bird inside ripping its way out, and falling with broken, bloody wings. His breath came in quick bursts, something sharp and heavy and bitter stuck in his throat. Water flooded his nose and mouth, stinging and suffocating but not _enough._ He needed something to distract him, needed to train or ride or hell, even bandits and - _oh gods, they were all dead and there wasn’t anything left of them and they were gone, gone and they were gone and -_

He collapsed against the wall and he felt the harsh scratch of it down his shoulder and his arm. He was trembling, his head knocking against the wall, and water ran down his hair and poured from his eyes, burning and tearing at his skin and it was everywhere, flooding his senses and - _they were all gone and it was supposed to be him and not them, anything but them, gods, anything but them, and he was supposed to sacrifice himself for them, they weren’t supposed to be gone and -_

He let out a sob, let it burn his throat on the way out, let it shatter and rip him apart. The shower was thunderous around him, pouring and pouring its pain on him, letting his blood run and sink until grief was a flood washing everything away and - _they weren’t here and they’d promised, they’d sworn, and oh gods, Gwen and Leon and Gwaine and Elyan and Percival and they’re gone and he -_

“Arthur? Arthur!”

Merlin slammed the door open, his eyes glowing gold and wide with panic. He saw Arthur trembling on the shower floor, water pouring all over him. The shower turned off and warm air dried Arthur instantly, two large towels wrapping around him, and Merlin rushed in. His scrapes healed with a faint tingling feeling. 

_Merlin._

Merlin held him tightly by the shoulders, giving him something to anchor himself on. Arthur lifted his head, trying to focus on Merlin’s face, even though his vision was blurry. His eyebrows were pinched together, his mouth a thin, worried line. It made him look older than his seven and twenty years. But Merlin was older than seven and twenty, because _centuries had passed and everyone was gone and oh gods, everyone was gone and -_

“Arthur. Focus on my breathing, yes? You can do this, I know you can. See, look at me. Let’s count down together. Ten,” Merlin said, raising his shoulders deliberately, breathing in and out evenly. Arthur stared at him, feeling his chest shake and shake with breaths too short and half-taken. He was still drowning. 

“Arthur, come on, work with me,” Merlin said gently, pulling Arthur’s hand and placing it on his chest, where he could feel a heartbeat. _Da-dum, da-dum_ , and his hand moved with it, breath in and out, and - 

_Merlin was alive._

“Ten,” Merlin said, breathing in, and Arthur tried to focus on him and think of nothing else. 

“Nine, focus on me and slowly, eight. You’re doing so well, Arthur. Breathe out, seven, that’s it. In on six, good, and out again for me, five.” 

Arthur pushed his breath out, shaking and trembling like he was freezing to death. Arthur saw a single glistening tear run down Merlin’s cheek.

“Good, Arthur, you’re doing so well. Four, and slowly out again, three. Easy, easy now. ” 

Arthur met Merlin’s eyes and followed him, feeling Merlin’s breath leave him in one long push and his own shattered breathing. There were burning tracks of tears down his cheeks, salt finding its way into his mouth, but he ignored it and focused on Merlin.

“Two. That’s good, Arthur, you’re safe, you’re okay.” Arthur reached over and wiped Merlin’s tears away and whispered, “ _One,_ ” together. 

They stared at each other, hardly believing the other alive. Arthur let his breaths tumble out gently, his whole body shivering with every inhale and exhale. He listened to his heartbeat and let it tire itself out. He kept his eyes on Merlin, his black hair, longer now, his eyes, oceans, as they’d always been, and the light freckles on his nose and cheekbones. He counted Merlin’s breaths to himself quietly, until his own matched. He saw Merlin’s fear dissipate as Merlin’s eyes roamed all over him, checking for injuries, but his gaze lingered for too long at his side. 

His voice was hardly louder than a whisper when he said, “Let’s get you to bed.”

Arthur didn’t remember putting on his sleeping trousers, but somewhere along the way from the shower to the bed, he must have put on grey ones, and a white shirt. Merlin kept his navy hoodie, and propped himself up on the bed. They didn’t move away from each other, Arthur leaning his back against Merlin’s chest, and Merlin rubbing circles on Arthur’s arms.

This time, Arthur told Merlin stories about the Camelot he remembered. Hunting for frogs with Leon, who was the closest thing he had to a brother, and how happy he was when Leon became a squire. He told him about the time Leon and him snuck into the armoury and almost got caught, the time Leon courted a girl, only to realize he didn’t feel much for her other than friendship. He talked about meeting Gwen and Elyan, and how he had to be careful about it because his father didn’t want him to mix with commoners. He told him about the first horse he’d had, a small, golden one, gentle and old. He talked about how Leon, Morgana, Gwen, Elyan, and a girl named Janet, whose parents had named her Jacob, used to organize “quests” into the forest, and about how he’d found the perfect clearing for them to have play-fights and picnics. He described the flowers in his mother’s garden, poppies and chrysanthemums and roses in every colour. He talked about his favourite tree there - a willow tree, and how he’d grown up with it. He talked until his throat closed up, and his eyes refused to stay open, and Merlin listened, holding him the whole time. He fell asleep with his ear against Merlin's chest and Merlin's palm pressed to his heart.

They woke up like that, wrapped around each other.

##### IV. shower 

_i) a brief and usually light fall of rain, hail, sleet, or snow_

“Arr - Ar'ur?”

Arthur lifted his head, patting the bed until he found a warm hand, and pulled it up against the pulse point at his neck. Though he had been back for nearly a year, 1500 years was a difficult stain to get out. The sleep-warm hand, calloused from years of servant work, then centuries of physician work, was a familiar press against him, now. Merlin gave a contented hum, deep and rumbling and warm. Arthur snuggled closer to the shoulder under his head, taking a deep breath of lavender and something spicy with a hint of sugar. He stayed like that for a moment longer, listening to Merlin’s breathing and light snuffles, before slowly getting up. 

He settled Merlin’s hands quietly against a pillow and tucked him in. Propped on his elbows, he traced the line of Merlin’s forehead and nose with his eyes, lingering on his eyelashes before staring at his lips. An eyelash was stuck on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. He slowly brushed it off, and gently cupped Merlin’s face, before sitting up properly. 

When Merlin made to move, he murmured, “Get some more sleep.”

Merlin nodded, and his hair flopped onto his closed eyelids. Arthur let himself smile and carefully extracted himself from the sheets. After a quick stop in the restroom to relieve himself and wash, he crept out to the kitchen. 

The first thing he did was check the cupboard to make sure everything was there, then he popped the kettle on, adding enough water for the two of them for the whole day. (Merlin had cast a charm that kept the water hot.) He shuffled around, taking out a frying pan and getting five eggs, two handfuls of cherry tomatoes, a slice of butter, and some cheese. Turning the fire on and letting the butter melt, he opened the pantry to take out 2 large scones, freshly made by Merlin yesterday. His mouth watered at the thought of a generous helping of the strawberry jam and a dark cup of tea. Setting the scones in the toaster oven, he cut the tomatoes in half, sprinkling some salt and pepper on them while they cooked. When they were halfway done, he cracked the eggs one by one, using a spatula to slowly scramble them, and quickly added small pieces of cheese. 

When he was done, he turned the fire off and took out two plates. He carefully plopped the eggs onto the plates, and gave Merlin ten red tomatoes, and seven to himself. He placed a scone each, temptingly warm, and lay a dollop of cold, heavy cream and the heavenly strawberry jam on top. He poured two mugs of tea, mixing in a spoonful of milk and half a spoon of sugar in the red mug, and two spoonfuls of milk with no sugar in the blue one. He placed the plates and mugs on a tray and made his way back to Merlin.

He set the tray on the bedside table and opened the window. Letting in the chilly morning air, he smiled and raised his voice. “Rise and shine, Merlin!”

Merlin let out a muffled groan. Arthur’s smile grew wider. 

“Come on, now, Merlin. Shake a leg! Up and at ‘em!”

Merlin stuffed his head under the pillow and pulled the covers over his head. 

“G’way, Wart!”

Ah. Merlin had discovered that nickname when Arthur told him about an overly friendly lady of the court. She’d insisted on pinching his cheeks and ruffling his hair, and Arthur had spoken about it all with a general air of annoyance, but Merlin had seen through it. Lady Heather had treated him like a son, and she had been the one he snuck off to when he had a nightmare, not his father. If it had been any other courtier, it would have led to blackmail and favours, but she had merely hugged him and given him a sweet, and no one was the wiser. Knowing that it didn’t actually annoy Arthur, Merlin had taken to calling him that. 

“I’ve made breakfast. So, come on, _lazy daisy!”_

That, however, did genuinely annoy Merlin. He sat upright. His hair was a bird’s nest, ruffled and messy and all over the place. His shirt was wrinkled where he’d been sleeping and there was a little bit of drool on his cheek. His eyes were only half open, piercing blue peeking out from curtains of long black lashes. His lips looked soft, still slightly glossy from the balm he put on at night. They were currently in an unfortunately attractive grimace.

“It’s been 1500 years, Arthur. Stop bringing it up!”

“Ah, good. You’re awake.”

Merlin huffed at Arthur, glaring at him. Arthur grinned, and made his way over to where Merlin sat on the bed. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, be a good boy and move over - ”

“Oh, you patronizing little - “

Clapping a hand over Merlin’s mouth, Arthur said, “Merlin. For the love of God, go and wash. Your breath is absolutely putrid.”

Merlin bit him. He tried not to think about why that was exciting. It really wasn’t. Not at all.

Arthur sat on the bed while Merlin dragged himself to the bathroom, slamming the door shut while muttering something about _annoying kings and idiot prophecies._ Arthur couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. Shaking his head, he made himself comfortable, pushing the blankets to one side and the pillows against the headrest. He warmed his hands against his blue mug while looking out the window, taking in the sunny skies and rolling white clouds. Perfect weather for some training, really. 

Or so he would tell Merlin. Truthfully, he had been planning a picnic and he’d nearly broken his neck hiding food for it in the house _they lived in together_. It wasn’t too difficult for him to disguise his cooking as he was the one who decided to go through Merlin’s libraries (Yes, Merlin had three, when he only had one bedroom. But really, what could the most powerful warlock of all time do about that?) for cookbooks a couple months back. The first thing he’d made was a disaster, but the second and third were edible, and everything after the fourth was delicious. While Merlin did most of the baking as he was leagues better at it, claiming it was similar enough to making potions, Arthur did most of the cooking nowadays. But it would have been suspicious if he made too much of Merlin’s favorites, and he wanted it to be a surprise. He was distracted from his thoughts when Merlin walked out of the restroom with a small amount of soap clinging to the front of his hair, though he looked much more awake. 

Merlin stopped on his way to the bed, taking in the sight before him. Arthur was leaning against the headrest, one leg raised and supporting his mug as he took small sips. His jaw ( _his godsdamn jaw_ ) flexed ever so slightly, strong and sharp and regal. The food was untouched, though he’d moved it to the middle of the bed. His shoulders were as broad as ever, hiding most of the pillow behind him, and his golden hair was tousled, somehow looking windswept even though he’d stayed inside. His blue eyes, sparkling like cool oceans on the hottest days of summer focused on him, and his pink lips were softly tilted upwards. Merlin felt his face heat up and quickly walked over to the window. 

Not looking at Arthur, he asked, “Did you wait for me?”

“Not really, but it was nice of you to join. It’s only your mugs, your bed and oh, _your house._ ”

Merlin smiled back at him, and fell back on the bed, jostling the tray and quickly steadying it with magic. He waved his hand to warm it up again, not noticing Arthur watching him intently. Pulling a blanket over himself, he snuggled against the pillows and pushed a tomato into his mouth. 

“You know, Arthur, if you hadn’t been king, you’d have made a half-decent servant.”

“Yes, I’d have made a better servant than you.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s absurd! I was a very good servant.”

Arthur laughed at Merlin’s indignation, taking another gulp of tea before spearing some egg with his fork. Merlin nudged his shoulder against his, but stayed quiet to eat more tomatoes. He tried not to stare too much at Arthur eating his scone, getting red jam and thick cream on his lips and licking it off. Arthur ended up giving Merlin five more tomatoes, and Merlin broke off a third of his scone for Arthur. When they were done eating, Merlin muttered a spell to get rid of the crumbs, and waved his hand to make the dishes dance into the sink. 

After sitting on the bed fighting off the urge to go back to sleep by jabbing at each other, Arthur went around the house opening the windows, blinking against the sun when he opened the south-facing ones. Merlin followed in his general direction, sticking his fingers in flower pots to determine which of his plants needed water. 

When he had opened all the big ones, Arthur called in his most kingly voice, “Merlin, I was thinking about doing some sword work. Would you care to join me?”

Merlin stuck his head in from where he was working in the garden, a smudge of dirt on his nose and cheekbones, and a stray leaf stuck to his hair. 

“First off, no. Secondly, it’ll rain soon, and I don’t fancy catching a cold, thanks. Third, no, I don’t want to.”

Merlin was usually right about things like the weather. Something about being Emrys had attuned him to the world at large, and he had a knack for guessing the weather, though the day Arthur came back his magic had been a bit faulty. Arthur’s face fell, and he quickly turned around to hide it.

“Well, a cold would be the only thing you could catch, eh?”

“I managed to catch a dragon, multiple times.”

“Only because you are a dragonlord.”

“I could’ve done it without those powers,” he insisted.

Arthur’s smile became genuine again. Merlin just rolled his eyes and went back to the garden. Sure enough, an few hours later it started pouring.

“Does it never stop raining in this wretched country?”

Arthur’s bad mood from his ruined picnic didn’t have the strength to last when Merlin was reading to him, but that didn’t stop him from complaining. They'd both washed and were lying in bed. He was lying on his bare stomach, hugging a pillow while Merlin lounged back next to him, their shoulders a hand’s distance away. Merlin finished drinking his tea to look back out the window.

He chuckled, saying, “No, it doesn’t seem so.”

“Utterly miserable,” Arthur complained, but he couldn’t help a small smile. Noticing it, Merlin smirked. 

Arthur huffed, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against his pillow. Merlin cleared his throat and began to read again, voice low and soft, the lilting Ealdor accent still there. Arthur let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back and squirming his toes before focusing on Merlin’s voice again. He zoned out, letting his mind follow Merlin’s voice into a world of spaceships and lasers. Merlin’s voice grew louder and harsher, and Arthur followed him into battle, spinning Excalibur, a rifle now, and he tripped when Merlin’s voice quieted, and saw the dead lying at his feet. Tears pricked at his eyes when Merlin whispered the final words of the crew to their fallen, and he was glad that he could hide his face in the pillow. Merlin closed the book with a small thud, and set it down on the floor next to the bed.

“Is it magic?” Arthur blurted out. 

“Is what magic? The technology in the story?”

“No, no. You reading, is it somehow - when you read, it’s almost like I’m there.”

A soft grin spread on Merlin’s face. “Is that a compliment?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Mmm,” Merlin hummed, and reached over to brush his hand through Arthur’s hair at the base of his neck. Arthur fought a shiver. “I’m not sure. My mother used to tell me stories when I was younger, I loved it. I think after a while I picked up the skill.”

“So just another part of your charm, then?”

“That was almost two compliments, Arthur.”

“Well. I mean them.” 

Arthur shuffled over until his shoulder was pressed between Merlin’s thigh and his knee, and Merlin let his fingers trail down to Arthur’s back, tracing over faded scars and drawing his anatomy. Arthur relaxed, eyes drifting closed and he was almost purring at the touch. 

“It's late. Get ready for bed, I’ll get some tea,” Merlin said, smoothing his palm down Arthur’s back. He whispered, “Thank you,” and pressed a feather-light kiss to Arthur’s shoulder. His lips were softer than Arthur had imagined.

Arthur’s eyes shot open, and he twisted around to look at Merlin, who was equally wide-eyed. Arthur stared at him. The faded red shirt he was wearing only accentuated how muscled he’d gotten, and his sharp collar bones peeked out. His hair was flat in the back and ruffled on the top, thick locks of it curling around his red ears. His cheekbones were both high in shape and color, blushing a deep red, almost as red as his lips. 

“I - uh. I’m so sorry, my lord, I - . I should just - ”

Arthur sat up properly, sitting across from Merlin. Merlin fell silent again. 

“Don’t call me that. Just - I have to - I have to know. Do you - did you mean anything by it?” Arthur murmured, trying to hide the cracks in his voice. _Please, let it not have been a mistake. Please._

Merlin took a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he nodded. “I’m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable I’ll - well. I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll think of something.” He forced a smile.

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin’s face fell. He had thought they would be okay. He had made his peace with the fact that Arthur would never feel for him the way Merlin felt for Arthur, and he was content just being by his side. He was content being a part of each other’s lives, eating meals together, going to the pub and town festivals together. He was happy to redecorate his house with him, to visit museums and cafes with him, to fall asleep in the same bed with him. Arthur was alive, and that’s all that truly mattered. But if his mistake made Arthur uncomfortable, if it made Arthur hate him - his eyes burned and his throat was too tight. He made to leave the bed, but Arthur grabbed his hands. 

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Merlin’s breath returned. He couldn’t help the hopeful twirl his heart gave. “It doesn’t?”

“I. Well, I - “ Arthur cut himself off. 

Arthur brought Merlin’s hands up slowly, letting him see where they were going, and giving him plenty of time to move away. When Merlin just stared back at him with red cheeks, Arthur gently pressed his warm mouth against Merlin’s knuckles, once against his left and once against his right. The hands that wielded swords and shields and spears, the hands that destroyed and rebuilt empires, the hands of the Once and Future King were impossibly gentle as they held Merlin’s hands against the mouth that held life and death within it. Arthur doesn’t look away and Merlin can’t. 

Neither has ever been a coward.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Today, I had planned a picnic. Yesterday, I had gotten grapes and strawberries - the ones you like, from the market, and I had prepared those sandwiches you adore. I had readied pies and scones, too, though I admit I cheated with those because I used some of your batter. I repurposed an old sheet to use as blankets, and I even figured out how to make a playlist of the music you like. I had it all prepared. We didn’t get to go, because it rained but I wanted to - well.

“I know that I haven’t always treated you properly, and I never told you how much I appreciate you. You are a wonder, in every sense of the word. You find and illuminate the best in people. You have the largest, warmest heart I have ever seen, and you never back down from a challenge. You are the bravest fool I’ve had the pleasure of knowing, and for all the times I complain about your prattle, I don’t think I ever want you silenced. You are honest in a way that people are not, and for that reason you are like cool water on a humid day. You understand people in a way I do not, and I truly believe that you were the biggest reason Camelot thrived as it did. You have made me, and you still make me, a better king, though I am not much of one now, and a better man.”

Merlin’s heart is jumping through his mouth and he’s staring at Arthur. Arthur’s eyes are sincere, sparkling with unshed tears, and his eyelashes flutter when he blinks. His voice is soft and serious, and he is giving a speech in all but volume. Arthur smiles at him, tentative and blushing, and Merlin knows he’s done for. 

“I had prepared this picnic, because I had wanted to ask your permission to court you.”

Merlin’s hands tighten, and he can’t help the grin splitting his face apart. Arthur continues, more confidently, now. 

“I know that customs have much changed, and everything is done differently. And that I am no longer a king, and there is nothing I can offer you in this world. But I refused to be a coward. My feelings for you are stronger than I have ever felt for anyone, and still they grow ever stronger. Sometimes I fear I am going mad with how much I want you. I had thought I knew what it is to - to love someone, to be willing to kill for them, to be willing to die for them. I thought I knew love when I would have let the world burn for someone. 

“But, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice shakes, and he grasps Merlin’s hands tighter. “Merlin, in you, I found a reason to save the whole world. For you, I would unmake destruction, and undo pain.”

Merlin’s breath stops and he feels his eyes prick with tears. He cannot look away from this magnificent man. His king. His _love._

“I - I know that you’ve never felt compelled to do as I wished because of my status, even more so now, with status non-existent, but I must assure you that I would not pressure you in any way. I do not want to make you uncomfortable, nor do I want to make you do something you do not want to. I am asking as equals, a friend to his best friend, a man to his - to his love.”

Merlin nods, and his voice cracks when he says, “I understand, Arthur.”

“Good. I - I wanted to say - I have loved you since Camelot, and I loved you when she fell, and I loved you when I died, and I love you with all that I am now. I desperately wish to court you. Do you - would you like for me to?”

There’s a single tear running down Merlin’s cheek that disappears into his grinning mouth, and Arthur knows that he has a matching one on his face. Merlin nods, and Arthur’s heart flips. Delighted, he pulls Merlin to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. Merlin reaches over instantly, rubbing his back. 

“Arthur,” Merlin says, his voice thick with emotion, and he pulls back. Arthur meets Merlin’s eyes. They're an enchanting mix of blue and swirling gold.

“When I first met you, I thought I hated you. I thought that you were nothing but a figurehead, and that I never wanted to see you again. But I was wrong. You say I have a warm heart but if that is true then yours is a fire. You burn with justice and courage and love, and you inspire it from all that meet you. I saw it when you were willing to die for a servant, when you were willing to defy your father to save a life, when you shed tears for those you could not save. You are so willing to learn about everyone around you, and you know to be humble when it is needed. You are like the sun in that everyone is drawn to you, not because of some prophecy or some crown, but because you are relentless in your compassion and leadership. I might have scoffed at your physical training, but I know that it took discipline, dedication, and that you studied it to better protect those weaker than you. You are worth every tear, every drop of sweat, every breath. You are one in a thousand millennia.”

Arthur’s heart is stuck in his throat, a pounding beat he can hear in his ears. Merlin’s smile is radiant, beautiful, and he knows he himself looks like a love-sick fool.

“1500 years is a long time, but I do not regret a second of it. I have served you, not out of duty or fear, but out of respect and love. I have loved you as the shadow loves its caster and as light and heat love the fire. I do not lie when I say that I will be happy to be by your side in any way that you’ll have me, but I cannot deny that this - this is everything to me. I love you more than I have ever thought possible, and I have lived fifteen centuries. I truly believe that even if there wasn't some messy destiny I would have found you, and I would have loved you. I desperately want to court you, too.”

Merlin leans closer and presses a kiss to Arthur’s cheek, near the corner of his mouth. Arthur's smile is brilliant, and he tugs Merlin closer and whispers in his ear.

“It would be an honor,” and Merlin flushes scarlet, and Arthur adds with a quirk of his lips, “My _lord_.”

“I’m not a _lord, dollop-head_ ,” Merlin replies, pressing a quick kiss to Arthur’s jaw, just because he can.

“Well, no one but a lord would have _such_ terrible aim as to miss my mouth by that much,” Arthur drawls, his breath warm against Merlin’s ear. 

Merlin chokes on his own tongue. 

Arthur chuckles, still leaning his cheek against Merlin’s, his lips a breath away from Merlin’s burning ears. Merlin twists his head and presses an open-mouthed kiss against Arthur’s neck. To his satisfaction, Arthur blushes deep red. He does it again, and once more. Arthur lets out a breathless laugh, and leans his head back to look Merlin in the eyes. Arthur’s eyes are a beautiful kaleidoscope of feather-light blues and deep sea navies, glittering and glowing. He can see his own gold-mixed blue reflected back at him. Arthur leans in slowly, glancing at Merlin’s lips for permission. Merlin pushes his chin forward and nudges their noses together. Taking a shallow breath, Arthur presses his lips against Merlin’s. Their teeth get in the way a little, but they can’t stop smiling. 

The first few kisses are short and chaste, until slowly they linger longer and longer. Merlin’s hands are around Arthur’s waist, and Arthur’s are wound in his hair and around his neck. They stay like that for a long time. The tip of Merlin’s tongue presses against Arthur’s, before flitting away to lick against his lower lip. Merlin hears Arthur chuckle, and nips his lip lightly, before soothing it with his tongue again. Arthur grins, and runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth, then draws back and presses short kisses on Merlin’s jaw. Merlin pulls Arthur up to kiss him on the mouth before moving away.

Arthur takes Merlin’s hand and leads him to the restroom, where they brush their teeth. They're both grinning too much and some toothpaste falls out of their mouths onto the floor, but they don't care. When they're done, Arthur leads Merlin back to the bed, taking his socks off before crawling in. He arranges them with Merlin’s head against his chest, and runs soothing fingers through his hair. 

“Is it still raining?” Arthur asks incredulously. They both glance out the window, dark and definitely raining, though it’s more of a drizzle now. Merlin hums.

“I like the rain.”

“I know," Arthur smiles fondly. "Tell me a story, will you?”

“Which one?”

“A happy one.” 

“Alright, clotpole,” Merlin smiles into it, and presses his lips against Arthur’s wrist. 

“Let’s see. In a time of myth and magic…”

Arthur draws stars and wings and love on Merlin’s shoulder as he drifts off with his lips pressed to his head.

##### V. rainbow 

_i) an arch of colors formed in the sky in certain circumstances, caused by the refraction and dispersion of the sun's light by rain or other water droplets in the atmosphere  
ii) a symbol of hope and promise of better times to come_

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, voice still scratchy with sleep, “Arthur.”

He presses a quick kiss against his cheek, and nuzzles lightly there, and clears his throat. “Arthur.”

“Whozzah? Mrr - M’rlin?”

Merlin chuckles. “Yes, love, it’s me. Wake up.”

Arthur smiles, and leans in for a soft kiss. And another. And hell, why not a third.

“You should have woken me up like this ages ago. None of that shouty bouty stuff.”

“Shouty bouty stuff?” Merlin raises his eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling up.

“You know exactly what I mean, Merlin.”

Merlin laughs. “I always do.”

“As do I,” Arthur replies, “Know what you mean when you prattle on, I mean.”

Merlin hums, and opens the curtains with a flick of his wrist. Outside, the rain has stopped and the sun is starting to rise. The sky is a quilt of oranges and pinks and blues, and the drizzled rain glistens like diamonds. The clouds bleed into pastel colours, turning lighter and lighter from the rich dark orchid they are, far from the sun. Willows sway in the wind, dripping rain on the red roses blooming just under them. A bird has found a pretty rock, and gingerly picks it up.

Arthur yawns, wrapping his arm around Merlin and pressing a few kisses to his clavicle. Merlin tugs Arthur’s hand up to his mouth and kisses the inside of his wrist before holding it against his cheek. They share a comfortable silence, pressed against each other.

“Arthur, look!” 

Arthur breathes in lavender and something sweet and Merlin, and lifts his head from where it was, halfway on Merlin’s chest, with his fingers gently scratching at his scalp. He looks first at Merlin, smiling when he sees his sleep-mussed hair and pillow marks on his cheek. Merlin’s eyes are wide and in awe, shimmering oceans with hundreds of tiny golden fish. His hair is a stark contrast to the white bedsheets, and his pale skin, and it frames his face elegantly. He has a healthy glow about him, lips red and inviting and soft. Arthur kisses him, playfully nipping his lower lip before looking out the window again.

Clearly visible against the hazy pink sky, there’s a rainbow shimmering just above the sun. It’s proudly announcing that the rain is over. 

“So beautiful,” Arthur whispers. Merlin agrees, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s as he turns and kisses him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and comments, questions, concerns, feedback, and anything, really is welcome. This turned out so much longer than I originally thought it would, and my original plan was heavily derailed by what must be an angst monster inside me. I wish I could expand on them being happy but I'm already late as is...  
> I apologize for any mistakes.  
> Shout at me on Tumblr : @lost-for-writing


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